He Won't Do It
by Jasmine2009
Summary: The team becomes concerned when Tony is approached by the FBI and asked to do something.
1. Chapter 1

Title: He Won't Do It  
Author: Jasmine  
Universe: NCIS Season 5  
Rated: PG-13  
Warnings: Subject matter—child abuse (nothing graphic)  
Date: December 15, 2011  
Summary: The team becomes concerned when Tony is approached by the FBI and asked to do something.  
Credit: Pat Benatar, the iconic 80's singer, is the inspiration for this fiction.  
Disclaimer: I make no money off this. All credit goes to D. Bellisario and NCIS.

**********************************8

Ziva looked up at the black suits entering the bullpen. One was tall and skinny while the other was short and stocky, and neither looked particularly thrilled to be there. "May I help you?" she asked.

"Yes, at least I hope so," said the shorter man with the regulation cut hair and round muscular face. He held up his badge and said, "I'm Agent Maxwell, and this is Agent Neal; we're with the FBI. We're looking for Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

Ziva sized up the taller agent because he was almost as nice looking as her partner, "He is not here, but he will be returning soon. You are welcome to wait."

Maxwell nodded his appreciation, "Thank you. If you don't mind, I think we will."

Gibbs studied the two agents and then watched the interaction until his curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up and approached them, "I'm Special Agent Gibbs, his boss. Can I help you?"

Maxwell solemnly shook his head and said, "Thank you, but we'll wait and speak directly to Agent DiNozzo."

"Can I ask why you want to see him?"

"It's personal, Agent Gibbs. We'd rather discuss our business with him."

"What has he done?"

"He hasn't done anything."

"It's professional courtesy to share with the team leader any business you might have with one of his people."

"Like I said, Agent Gibbs, we just want to talk to him, nothing more."

Gibbs smiled, deferring to their authority, or at least allowing them to think that, "Special Agent DiNozzo is a member of my team, and when the FBI comes around, usually it's because they're investigating something. Are you investigating my agent, Agent Maxwell?"

"No, Sir," he replied, feeling his collar tightening around his neck, while remembering the stories he'd heard about Agent Gibbs. "It's like I said already. We're only here to talk to him. Maybe we should wait outside."

"So you're saying he's not a suspect in any investigation?"

"That's right."

Still smiling and sounding genial, Gibbs continued, "If that's the case, then you shouldn't mind telling me what it pertains to."

"No disrespect intended, Sir, but we'd really rather wait and speak directly to Agent DiNozzo."

"The least you can do is tell me what case you're working."

Maxwell and Neal exchanged glances; however awkward they may have felt, it was easy to tell that they were considering the request. Shifting nervously, Maxwell answered, "It's an old case that's being reopened. We just have a few questions for Agent DiNozzo, that's all."

"How old's the case?"

"A couple decades."

Gibbs furrowed his brow; there weren't too many departments that entertained cases that old. "What division are you with?"

There was silence now, not even an exchange of looks, and Gibbs knew they were done talking. He continued his friendly way and ticked his head towards the elevators. "Okay. Here he comes now. Don't keep him too long; he has work to do."

Ziva watched the conversation and thought for sure the FBI agent would be relieved when he saw Tony, if for no other reason than he didn't have to deal with Gibbs anymore, but he wasn't relieved at all. Awkward was more the word to describe the agents' demeanor, and Ziva furrowed her brow at their reaction.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo?" Agent Maxwell said, greeting the well dressed man as he approached.

"That depends. You look like you're from the FBI. No offense, but my dealings with you boys don't usually end well—for me."

"I'm Agent Maxwell, and this is Agent Neal, and yes, we're with the FBI. Can we have a minute of your time? Privately?"

Tony cocked his head, "Why?"

"Please, if we could talk in private, I will explain everything."

Tony looked at his colleagues, wondering if they knew what this was about. Ziva and Gibbs were too hard to read, but McGee all but telepathically transmitted his thought… _not a clue_.

Gibbs said, "Take them to the conference room." With just his eyes, he followed the three men until they disappeared, and then he picked up his phone and dialed. "Fornell? This is Gibbs. I've got a question for you."

Attentively listening, Ziva only pretended to be working, while McGee just flat out eavesdropped.

"Agent Maxwell and Agent Neal… " Gibbs continued, "what division are they with?"

McGee caught the slightest change in his boss' demeanor, and it wasn't a good change either.

"What do they want with DiNozzo?"

A second later, he dropped the phone in its cradle and rubbed his chin.

Ziva whispered to herself, "That didn't sound good."

"What'd he say?" McGee asked.

"Nothing. Claims he can't talk about it. Can you access the FBI's database?"

McGee's eyes widened; he hated these sorts of requests: he never knew how to answer. Should he give the answer that will keep him employed, or give the answer his boss wanted to hear? "Well, I can try to go in through D-O-D…" He noticed Gibbs' look and sucked up the courage and said, "It'll take some time, but I think I can probably…." Once again, the not so subtle glare from Gibbs forced him to further change his answer, "Sorry…, it'll take me a few minutes, but I _will_ do it."

"Good. Get on it and keep it quiet."

Returning to his desk Gibbs tried to concentrate on his latest case, but this new development kept interfering with his concentration. Why was the FBI re-opening an old case? Not a cold case, which he could understand, but this is an old case, and very few divisions had the ability to re-open that kind of case. And why the secrecy? If they really had wanted to, they could have just picked him up at home. Why wait until he came into the office?

"I'm in, Boss. What do you want to know?"

He slid in behind the computer geek and said, "Pull up Agent Maxwell's current assignments."

McGee punched some keys and then read his screen, "Boss, Maxwell's with the division that investigates crimes against children."

"—I can see that. What case is he working?"

Ziva sauntered over and looked on, saying, "They can't possibly think that Tony is capable of such an act."

"C'mon," Gibbs prodded the young agent who seemed frozen in a state of disbelief, "keep looking."

But McGee's mouth stayed open at the thought of Ziva's comment. "There's no way Tony's involved with anything like this, Boss."

"You want me to head slap you?"

Rapidly turning his attention back to his screen, McGee began typing again, "These cases are hard to open, Boss. Any file in the children's division gets double and triple encryption. They use the same firewalls and security that they use for their witness protection program."

"McGee!"

Typing as fast as he could, he brought up a list of case files. "These are the current, open FBI cases, but there's no way of telling which one Maxwell is assigned to. Unless…." He clicked a few more keys, "unless I can…"

Gibbs shifted, watching his monitor flash screen after screen.

"Yes! I'm in. Here's the Director's list of assignments!"

Gibbs furrowed his brow, "You hacked into the FBI Director's files?"

Confused, Tim stumbled, "Well, I… it was… this is the only place I thought to go."

"Good job, McGee. There's hope for you yet. What's it say?"

"Agents Maxwell and Neal have been given six cases to solve."

"Which have the oldest dates?"

"If I'm reading the nomenclature correctly, there are three cases which date back to the seventies and eighties. To be exact: 1973, 1980, and 1989."

"Put them up on the screen."

McGee pushed the file names to the plasma: CAC197313-128, CAC198050-987, and CAC198943-984. They studied the screen a minute before Gibbs pointed to the first entry, "Can you open this one?"

He clicked on the keys until he finally displayed the first page. In silence they read about a man who had been accused of sexually assaulting minors. According to one of the victims, the first incident happened in June of 1973. The man was a counselor at a youth camp for boys with significant disciplinary problems.

"Flip to the victims' page."

McGee scrolled through the file until he landed on the page titled "Potential Victims" typed neatly across the top in old style Courier lettering. The list of names was long, and as he read, it felt like a vise was closing in around his lungs. There was no one named Anthony DiNozzo on the list, and the vise lessened its grip.

"What happened to the case? Did it go to trial?"

McGee continued to scroll through the pages, one by one, reading the witness testimonies, the investigators' notes, and the evidence pages, following along as a case was built against this counselor. According to the reports, the man was brought up on six counts of having sexual relations with a minor, eight counts of rape against a minor, and 24 other various and sundry charges related to sexual abuse of a minor.

Ziva slapped McGee hard.

"Hey!" he responded until he caught her meaning. Coming towards him were Tony and the FBI agents. He quickly minimized his screen while Gibbs walked out from behind and picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, waiting for them to approach. Instead, they stopped by the windows and Maxwell said, "Thank you for your time, Agent DiNozzo. If you change your mind, you have my card."

Tony didn't bother walking them to the elevator, and instead opted to return to his desk as if nothing was unusual about being interviewed by the FBI.

Gibbs asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah."

Gibbs studied him a beat, expecting more of an explanation, but it became obvious nothing more was coming.

Ziva watched Gibbs shuffle through some papers, and then leave the bullpen. She turned her attention to her partner, thinking he was perhaps a little too focused on his work. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know. You just seem intent on researching Sebring's records," she said hoping he'd see that she really wanted to know what the FBI wanted.

"Well, he is our current case."

She shrugged, accepting his answer but keeping an eye on him as he worked. Between her watching him and McGee glancing his way, she was sure he was going to notice them, but if he did, he chose to ignore them, opting instead to type intently on his computer.

Gibbs heard the music from the elevator. Even still, he wasn't prepared for the blast of noise that assaulted his auditory senses when the door to the lab slid open. "ABBY! TURN IT DOWN!" A second later, he could think again and said, "What'd you have?"

"I have good news! The fingerprint you lifted belongs to Petty Officer Mark Stone."

Gibbs knew that Stone had killed Sebring, but it was collecting the evidence that was proving a challenge, and one piece of evidence alone was never enough for him. He stared at the fingerprint match but said nothing.

"I thought that was good news?" she said.

"I have something for you to do right now. Bring up the bullpen on your camera thingy."

She smiled at his technological vocabulary before turning and clicking on the screen. Coming into focus were Tim, Tony, and Ziva, each working diligently at their desks. "Okay… now what?"

"Just watch him," he said, pointing to the screen.

"Tony? Why?" The request wasn't something he was going to elaborate on, but she needed a little more information. "If you're not going to tell me why, at least tell me what I'm looking for?"

"Anything and everything. Just observe him today."

Before she could ask another question, he disappeared. Looking back at the monitor, she wondered what this was all about and figured it must have had something to do with the FBI visit. She studied the screen and soon realized that she wasn't the only one watching the senior field agent.

********************************************8

Ziva wondered if anyone was leaving for lunch. It was almost one o'clock and not a soul had so much as intimated about being hungry. Her own stomach was growling and she wasn't sure how much longer she could wait. "Anyone up for lunch?"

McGee nodded, "I am. What'd you have in mind?"

Deferring to Tony's senses, she said, "I was thinking about a Bar-B-Que sandwich from Roy's Tavern. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me," Gibbs said.

"Me, too," Tim added.

Ziva waited the obligatory second for Tony's response and when none was forthcoming, she asked, "How about you, Tony. Would you like a sandwich from Roy's?"

"No, thank you. I'll pass today."

"What?" she asked, incredulously.

"You heard me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm watching my waistline."

"Since when?"

Tony squared up across from her and said, "Okay. I'm not hungry. I don't feel like Bar-B-Que. I brought my lunch. Pick an excuse." He regretted saying it as soon as the last word left his lips, but he wasn't in any mood to socialize today.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"What'd you find out about Sebring's accounts?"

"There was a large deposit made three weeks ago. It was withdrawn two weeks later. Bank manager says he has the tapes of the lobby on both the day of the deposit and the day of withdrawal and we can pick them up whenever."

Gibbs tossed him the keys and said, "Good. Pick up the tape and get us some lunch."

"But, I don't want any lunch."

Gibbs stared at him.

"Getting lunch and the tapes, Boss."

The elevator doors had barely closed when Abby trotted into the room, declaring, "I want something from Roy's!"

"You're a Vegan. What can you possibly eat from that place?"

"You are right, McGee! I am a Vegan. But Roy's caved to pressure and they're now serving tofu burgers."

"Wait," he countered, "how'd you know we were going to Roy's?"

She froze, then looked at Gibbs, who seemed to be asking the same question. He just stared back at her, not bothering to help her out in any way. "I thought I heard you talking about it this morning," she lied.

Ziva narrowed her eyes, "No you didn't. You have been spying on us!"

"Well, Gibbs told me to!"

The team leader smiled, "Abby, you'd never make a spy. What'd you observe?"

"I saw that I wasn't the only one watching him."

"You were watching Tony?" Ziva asked.

"Yup. And so were you." Then she turned and pointed to McGee and said, "And you too. It seems we're all keeping an eye on him. Why?"

"Did he do anything unusual?"

"Nope. He wrote notes and talked on the phone. I caught him once staring into space, but that was short lived."

Gibbs ignored her previous question and said, "If you want something to eat, you'd better call DiNozzo. McGee, I want to know if that guy was ever convicted."

"Right." It took him awhile to re-enter the FBI's database and pull up the file again, but he scrolled to the court papers and read, "It says here the case went to court against Hank Eugene Miller, it lasted two weeks. Here it is. It looks like the guy walked, Boss. He was convicted of two counts of taking indecent liberties with a minor, sentenced to twelve months, served six, and was released."

"How does a guy go from 20 counts of sexual abuse down to two?" Ziva asked.

McGee read further and attempted an answer, "It looks like the defense was able to impugn the credibility of the witnesses."

"They were boys. How could they do that?"

"From the looks of it, they were able to convince the jury that the boys couldn't be trusted to tell the truth, so their testimony was questioned from the start."

Gibbs rubbed his chin and thought. There had to be a connection between this case and Tony, but where was it? This case was in 1973 and Tony would have only been four or five, too young to be at that camp, especially one for boys in trouble. "This counselor, Miller, where'd he go after he was released from prison?"

McGee started another search, "According to his tax records, he moved from Kansas to Connecticut in 1976, and was hired at Camp Haven as the Camp Director and put in charge of a program called Summer's Path for Boys. Like the other one, this camp was specifically for boys who had run-ins with the law."

"How could he do that after his conviction," she asked.

Staring intently at his screen, McGee answered, "This was before background checks. If he filled out the application as H. E. Miller, nobody would know the difference."

"Ziva, get me a list of all boys attending that camp in 1976."

"On it."

"McGee, pull up the local newspapers for crime reports in Connecticut in 1976—."

"—Boss, I think I have something," he interrupted. "I accessed Maxwell's notes on the case. It seems that a man has come forward accusing Miller of sexually abusing him while attending that program."

Abby said, "That's double jeopardy—he can't be tried again for the same crime."

"Actually, it's not the same crime. This accusation is from his time as a counselor in Connecticut, not Kansas, and in 1976."

"Ziva, expand your search to include '77."

Abby sat down at Gibbs' computer and started a search on newspapers. A minute later, she said, "I found an article in The Connecticut Gazette about a summer camp being shut down because of accusations being levied against the camp coordinator. They don't mention the camp coordinator's name, but it does refer to a Camp Haven and a program called Summer's Path for Boys."

"McGee."

"On it. Searching for the camp name in the FBI files. Here it is! The State of Connecticut vs. Hank Eugene Miller. Looks like they're building another case against him. After the first victim came forward, two more followed."

"Who are the victims?"

Ziva said, "I've found a list of campers from 1976 through 1978. There are hundreds of names here."

Gibbs stood behind her and together they perused the list. They both saw the name at the same time: Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. He was among the campers who spent his summer at Summer's Path in 1977.

"Boss, I have names. The first person accusing Miller of sexually assaulting him is Robert Brown. David O'Hara and Peter Conner came forward later."

"Where are they now?"

McGee, Ziva, and Abby each took a different victim and started searching. McGee found his man first, "Brown is in Texas, serving time in a federal penitentiary for two convictions of rape."

Ziva found her man next, "David O'Hara is considered homeless and lives with his brother when he isn't in a mental institution. No employment records."

Abby found her man last, "Peter Conner is in and out of rehab facilities. Seems alcohol is the drug of preference but he spent some time kicking a heroin habit."

Gibbs surmised, "Their testimony would be suspect from the beginning, just like in the first case. That's why they want Tony to come forward."

"Testimony from a federal agent would put him away for life."

There was a momentary pause as the realization of what this all meant slowly sunk in. Abby finally said, "There's no proof that Tony was… you know, abused by this man."

"Why else would the FBI want to talk to him?" Ziva stated.

Gibbs picked up his coffee and left, leaving the three to ponder their colleague's past.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the people who have commented; I really do appreciate it. Several have commented on Tony's age. His age seems to be a moving target even within the show, so I simply picked one. The one line that sticks in my head as Tony's definitive date of birth is from the episode "Sins of the Father" where they were going to celebrate by opening an expensive bottle of wine that was bought the year Tony was born. So I used that one. If memory serves, the other mentions of his birth year are not confirmed, just aluded to, but I could be wrong and by no means want to open a discussion on it. Suffice it to say that Tony's age is different for different authors. And I set many of my fics during season 5, again for no specific reason, I just like it I guess. Hope you enjoy this chapter. ~Jasmine**

******************************************8

Ducky was knee deep in body parts when the sliding door opened. He didn't even look up when he said, "Have you ever seen such a mess of bones and tissue? Not since I was in Sarajevo have I seen such carnage. I hope they catch the bastard responsible for this."

"They will," Gibbs answered, confidently, "Gillman's a good agent. His team will catch whoever did this."

"I hope so, I'd like to give the Petty Officer some peace. What can I do for you today?"

"I need a profile."

"Okay. Who?"

"Not exactly a who. The victim of child abuse… as an adult, what would he be like?"

"Like any other adult. Can you be more specific?"

"Emotionally."

Ducky hesitated a moment before answering, "As an adult, he could literally suffer from any number of debilitating emotional problems."

"What would be the most prominent?"

"Drugs and alcohol abuse, involvement in criminal activity. Often they themselves become the abuser."

"Anything else?"

"Well, aside from the obvious, there are numerous psychological challenges to overcome. Probably the most common are an inability to commit in relationships, a failure to acknowledge authority and authority figures, and let's not forget a fear of abandonment, but there are many others."

Gibbs looked off, obviously in thought.

"Would this have anything to do with today's visit from the FBI?"

"They came to see DiNozzo and I think it's about a case they're working, but that would mean Tony was the victim of child abuse."

"Tony would fit the profile."

"Duck."

"I don't say that lightly, Jethro. I've always had my suspicions."

"What if he were abused, and he resurrected those memories? What if he were made to relive them, perhaps testify in court about what happened to him. What would something like that do to him?"

"For most people, it's an opportunity to come clean and heal. When they finally realize that it's not their fault, they can move on with their lives, but it's usually very hard because these people often enter the process already a step behind: drug and/or alcohol addicts, convicts, burdens on society. But for someone like Tony, who has made something of his life and been fairly successful at it, I'm afraid these memories could adversely affect him."

"So what's he supposed to do, Duck? Resurrect memories of abuse that he's seemingly worked hard to forget? Or turn his back, ignore it all and allow his abuser a chance to walk free again?"

The doctor looked solemnly at his friend. Some problems didn't have clear answers, and then there were those problems which had no answers at all.

*************************************8

It was almost quitting time and they had reviewed the tapes from the bank and found Mark Stone on the video the day the money was withdrawn. This was the second piece of evidence Gibbs needed to nail the man's coffin shut, but he liked to have three solid pieces connecting the murderer to the victim before he presented his finding to the prosecutor. "Can we link Stone to Sebring the day he was murdered?"

"I think so," Tony answered. "Sebring was last seen leaving work at 5:30. He went to a bar in Georgetown like he always did. I talked to the bartender and he remembers seeing Sebring talking to someone. According to him, it sounded like they were having a heated conversation."

Ziva added, "According to the waitress who served them, they were arguing over a bet they made."

Gibbs smiled, knowing it was all finally coming together.

McGee added, "Evidently, they liked to bet on the ponies and they hit it big. Only Sebring didn't want to go 50/50 since Stone backed out of the trip at the last minute."

There it all is, Gibbs thought. "Where's Stone right now?"

"Field assignment. His unit's due back tomorrow at nine."

"Good. First thing tomorrow morning go pick him up." Gibbs studied the plasma, sipping his coffee and thinking the feeling he got when he finally amassed enough evidence to nail the SOB was second only to seeing the bastard's face when it finally dawned on him that he'd been caught. But today's euphoric feeling was tainted, and when he looked at his team, he felt their fatigue. "Go home now; it's late."

Ziva shut down her computer and observed her partner. He was packing up for the day but his mind seemed a million miles away. "You want to get a bite to eat?"

He looked up and shook his head, "Not tonight."

She studied him a minute longer and finally blurted, "I have been dying to know why the FBI wanted to talk to you this morning. What did they want?"

Not bothering to look at her, he simply replied, "They want me to testify against a man I once knew."

Gibbs was surprised at his candor, but figured this was another one of DiNozzo's defense mechanisms.

"What man?" Ziva asked.

"A man who was a counselor at a camp my father sent me to. They think he might have abused me while I was there."

"Did he?"

Tony stretched his neck, thinking about that time. "Yeah."

Ziva almost dropped her pack. His answer was so casual and matter-of-fact that she thought she might have misunderstood, but a quick glance at McGee confirmed she had not. "Are you saying he abused you?"

"Yeah," he quipped at her with the underlying tone of _'what's there not to get here?'_

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged, "It is what it is."

Perplexed, she came from around her desk and asked him point-blank, "You want to talk about it?"

"Not much to talk about."

"Well, are you going to testify?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Tony laughed and shook his head, "Because I don't remember it, if you can believe that, which is why I can't very well testify."

"If you can't remember, how do you know he abused you?"

"Because I landed in the hospital with a broken arm, cracked ribs, a couple of black eyes and a bunch of other things that you don't want to know about."

"That's horrible," McGee said. "Why didn't you tell someone what he did?"

Tony stopped a second, thinking about McGee's question. For some reason, he felt like the computer nerd should have known the answer, "Like who?"

Flabbergasted, McGee stammered for the right words, "Like your father, or your mother, the police? Anybody!"

Tony slung his backpack over his shoulder and appeared to be giving it serious consideration.

To Ziva, he looked like he genuinely thought the idea of telling someone was absolutely ridiculous. Tony finally answered, "My mother was dead, and my father—well, I couldn't have told him because he was out of the country and he would have been really pissed at me had I called him, or worse, someone from the camp had called him."

"Tony, what about another counselor? Or the police?"

He laughed, sardonically. "Tell them what? That this guy beat the crap out of me? That's just what happened to us when we'd piss them off."

"No, it isn't, Tony. Most kids don't land in the emergency room of a hospital."

"Well, this kid did. I broke a lot of rules, McGee, and I pissed off a lot of people when I was young."

"That's no reason to hurt you," Ziva said, disbelievingly.

Again, Tony looked confused. "Maybe not in your world, but in my world, it was. Come to think of it, most men in my life beat the crap out of me, frequently. That was pretty much a way of life for me. The only reason I didn't land in the hospital at an earlier age is because my mother protected me from my father. When he'd get drunk, he would—" he stopped short, feeling an uneasiness build in his abdomen and knowing he had revealed too much. "Let's just say it wasn't a pretty picture." He looked over at McGee who was staring at him. "Close your mouth, McPerfect. You didn't have such a great relationship with your dad."

"That's true, but I didn't end up in a hospital."

Tony thought about it a minute and shrugged, "It's water under the bridge—"

"—Tony!" Ziva exclaimed, "You were the victim of child abuse! You—"

"—and you weren't?" he shot back at her. "You? Who grew up to be an assassin, trained by your old man? Can't get more abusive than that!"

"My father never touched me! He never so much as raised a hand to me!"

Tony clipped his gun to his belt. "So it's okay to emotionally abuse your children so long as you don't break anything?"

McGee interrupted and asked, "What about this camp counselor? Why don't you testify against him?"

"Because no one would believe me."

"That's not true."

"No? You asked me why I didn't tell anyone? Well, I tried! I tried to tell someone but they didn't believe me then, so why would they believe me now?"

"Because Miller's a sexual predator who deserves to be locked up!"

Tony froze, as did the entire bullpen, and he turned slowly to glare at his Israeli partner. How'd she know who he was? How'd she know what he'd done? By her guilty expression, he knew she'd been snooping around. He dropped his backpack off his shoulder and approached her. Peering down, he toned quietly, "Don't dive into my past, Officer David. It's a dark, cruel and dangerous place to go."

Ziva kicked herself for being so careless and wanted to go after him, but before she could gather her things, he had gone.

"Boss," McGee said, "you want us to stick with him?"

Gibbs stared after his senior field agent, shocked at his revelations. Finally, he shook his head, "Abby's waiting for him."

********************************************88

Gibbs' phone rang at midnight. He set down the sanding block and answered, "How is he?"

"Drunk. I'm two minutes from your place. You'll have to help me with him because it took me and two other guys just to get him into my car; I don't think I can get him out alone."

Tony was singing merrily when Gibbs reached in and pulled him out of the passenger's seat. "C'mon, Tony, help me out here."

"Oh, aaaaay Voss… Whad'y ya doin' at mah plaz?"

"You're at my place, DiNozzo." He slung Tony's arm around his neck and with Abby on the other side, they got him inside and deposited on the sofa. "Don't even think about getting sick on my couch."

"I god'it," he slurred, barely keeping his eyes open. "Why'r we so sdrunk t'night?"

Abby grabbed a blanket from the closet and Gibbs grabbed a trash can, "Here. Just in case, you had better hit this."

Tony leaned his head back, "Aiy Aiy, Voss."

Gibbs looked down on his inebriated agent as did Abby. "Did he say anything?"

She saddened her lips and said, "Did you know his father put him in the hospital once?"

Gibbs sighed; he hadn't known.

"Did you also know that he feels it was his fault?"

Gibbs looked from agent to scientist and back again, taking in the words.

"It's sad, Gibbs. Tony, who's always in control, who's always such a rock, turns out to have been an abused child. Who could do that to him? And why?"

He shook his head; he had no answers.

"Is it true that the FBI wants him to testify against some man?"

Gibbs nodded.

"Was Tony one of his victims?"

He looked down at his passed out agent and couldn't imagine him being victimized that way… didn't want to imagine it. His own heart was heavy with a sense of guilt even though it occurred years before they'd ever met. "We don't know. Only Tony knows and he's not saying."

"If you ask me, I don't think he's going to do it. He kept saying that no one would believe him even if he did testify."

Gibbs put his arm around her shoulder and walked her to his door. "If he changes his mind, we'll believe him. Thanks for tonight."

She gave Tony one final glance and sighed, "Take care of him."

Closing the door, he answered to no one, "Always do."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

************************************88

Tony blinked his eyes open before realizing that the light added to his already excruciating headache. It was that pain that brought him to consciousness and he wondered if he even had the power to make his hangover remedy. Suddenly, he remembered work and threw the blanket off in an attempt to sit up. It was then that he realized he wasn't in his own bed, or for that matter, his own apartment. Trying to focus on his surroundings, he mumbled, "Where the hell am I?" Then, recollecting the events of the previous night, he said, "Abby?" while secretly praying this wasn't her apartment. "Please don't tell me there's a coffin around here."

"There isn't."

He rotated his head, squinting up into the shadowed face. "Gibbs?"

"Yeah. How'd ya feel?"

Tony managed to move himself into a sitting position. "Like shit. What happened?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

He rubbed his hands over his face, then leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. "We have to pick up Stone this morning."

"McGee and Ziva are taking care of it."

Tony wasn't sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he was relieved he didn't have to move, on the other, there was nothing standing in the way of having to answer questions he'd rather not. "Maybe we should help them?"

"They're quite capable of bringing him in."

'_Figures_,' he thought. Then it occurred to him that maybe Gibbs could help him with his decision, but that would mean he might have to divulge some things… things he wasn't sure he could share. "I slept in my clothes."

"Yep."

"I'm going home to shower."

Gibbs dropped a set of towels on the table and said, "You know where it is."

Tony rubbed his face. This wasn't what he had in mind. "I'd really rather go home."

Gibbs stared, having the intended effect of making his agent uncomfortable.

"Boss, I appreciate what you're doing, but it's not your fight. Hell, it ain't even your concern." Focusing his vision was still difficult, and he rubbed his eyes again, only serving to irritate them more. "I mean, I can't really help these guys out. They show up, dressed in standard issue black suits, take me into the conference room and ask me to remember something that happened decades ago. I can't do it… I won't do it." He pushed off the sofa, still fuzzy-headed and off balance, knowing Gibbs was staring at him, waiting for him to give the right answer. The only problem was, he didn't know what that answer was. "Do you think you could drive me home?"

"Not yet."

"C'mon, Gibbs," he said as forcefully as his hangover would allow. "I just told you I'd rather go home and shower. No offense, but I have my routine and I don't like to change it up."

"Routine? The one for when the girl sleeps over, or the one for when you wake up alone?"

"Funny."

"Sit down." Gibbs could see the internal struggle almost as if it were happening between two people. It took a few more minutes of him fighting the request, but he eventually sat back down, something Gibbs knew he would do if given enough time. "You want to talk about it?"

"No."

Leroy Jethro Gibbs leaned back. He was in no hurry and nothing right now was more important to him. In fact, if this were an interrogation, this was the part he liked second only to hitting the desk when he was pressed for time. He could wait as long as DiNozzo could; longer if necessary.

"C'mon, Boss. Drive me home. Please?"

"Okay… in a bit."

Tony knew what that meant. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Maybe we should go drinking together. Better yet, you want me to bring up my bottle of Jack Daniels?"

Tony almost vomited at that thought, but the comment forced him to think about his time with Abby. He, no doubt, talked too much, and she, no doubt, passed along everything he'd said. The question was, what did he say? Damn, he wished his headache would subside, at least long enough for him to think back to their conversation and remember what kind of details he had managed to share about his past. It had to have been ugly, but then again, maybe not. Gibbs hadn't mentioned anything and he didn't look like he was disappointed or disgusted, so maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe. "Come on… Gibbs, just drive me home."

"I will. Just not yet. I'm curious about something."

"What?"

"Your decision about testifying?"

"I told you, I'm not doing it because I don't remember what happened."

"Actually, you said you did remember, but that you thought no one would believe you."

_Great_, Tony thought, parsing sentences and words this early in the morning on an empty stomach while nursing a hangover was not on his list of the top one hundred things to do, ever. "Does it really matter?"

"I'm glad you asked that because I wonder that myself. Does it matter... Answer me this: What kind of cop lets a child molester walk?"

Tony sat up straighter, jutting his chin forward. "I'm not letting anyone walk!"

"That's not how I see it."

Tony smirked, anger building behind bloodshot eyes.

Gibbs continued, "This guy hurt you, Tony. He hurt a lot of boys, and you have an opportunity to do something about it."

"What the hell do you know about it?" he snapped, but then he remembered this was Gibbs, and Gibbs probably knew more about the case than he did at this point. "I'm not testifying! I can't!"

"So it's okay with you to let this guy continue to molest, beat up, and emotionally destroy other boys. How many more? Two? Ten? Twenty?"

"What do you want from me! I told you already, no one's going to believe me! It'll be just like—" Tony stopped short, knowing he was about to say something he wouldn't be able to return from. "Nevermind. I'll call a cab if I have to." He pushed off the couch and left.

*******************************************8

Gibbs looked up and watched Tony drop his pack and stow his gun in his drawer. He had made it into the office before noon, but he didn't look much better than when he left his house several hours earlier.

Ziva sized him him up, "You look like hell. What'd you do last night?"

"I slept on an uncomfortable couch in a cold house."

"It could have been worse," McGee offered. "You could have been in a coffin."

Tony ran his hand over his face, feeling the stubble of facial growth. _'Damn, I forgot to shave_,' he thought. "Did we get the tapes from the bank?"

McGee furrowed his brow, "Ye-a-h. Actually, you got them yesterday."

"Oh. Then we've got to pick up Stone."

Ziva narrowed her eyes and replied, "We did that already. Are you okay?"

"No! I'm not okay! I'm tired of people asking me IF I'M OKAY!"

Ziva and McGee looked at each other. There was something scary about their partner when he got angry. Ziva decided against asking any more questions and instead brought him up to speed, "We picked up Stone this morning. He was fairly confident we didn't have anything on him until Gibbs interrogated him. He didn't confess, but he did demand a lawyer. He's waiting to be transferred now."

Tony powered up his computer and tried to relax. It was easy to ignore his colleagues, and even easier to ignore Gibbs, but what wasn't so easy to ignore were Agents Maxwell and Neal, who seemed to materialize before his eyeballs. "What do you two want now?"

"We were told that you had a change of heart," Maxwell said, beginning to question the phone call now that he saw the unkempt agent.

"I didn't call you," Tony snapped.

Maxwell turned and looked at Ziva, hoping she might be able to clear up the confusion.

"Do not look at me. I did not call you nor do I know who did."

"I did," Gibbs said.

Tony clenched his teeth, feeling an anger towards his boss that he had never felt before. What the hell business was this of his?

Neal addressed the team leader, "I thought you said he was willing to testify."

"No. I said he had a change of heart. He just hasn't realized it yet."

"What?" Tony said, feeling the tightening in his chest.

"You're an officer of the law, Special Agent DiNozzo, sworn to uphold it at any cost. If a crime's been committed, it's your duty to report it."

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, practically to himself as he stared at his boss.

The tension in the squad room was so thick that the entire floor was silent. Gibbs calmly stared down his senior field agent, but he wasn't fully prepared for Tony to stare back.

Ziva and McGee barely moved their bodies at the standoff, and the FBI agents just stood there, unsure of what to do.

Tony broke the silence by standing abruptly and sending his chair crashing backwards against his credenza. He walked over to his boss' desk and stared down on him. "What are you doing?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"You can't order me to testify."

"No, I can't."

When nothing more was forthcoming and the staring game had begun again, Tony had had enough. He returned to his desk, pulled out a piece of paper and began writing. Maxwell tilted his head trying to read the form. Tony slapped it down on Gibbs' desk and said, "I need some time. I'm requesting a week's vacation." He returned to his desk, picked up his pack, gun, badge and left.

"McGee." Gibbs ticked his head towards the exit.

Grabbing his stuff, he raced between the desks hoping to catch the elevator in time, "Tony! Wait up!"

Neal put his hands on his hips and said, "I'm not sure what we just witnessed here, but I'm thinking he hasn't reconsidered his position."

Gibbs thought about the statement and said, "Have you worked with many victims of child abuse, Agent Neal?"

He hedged, and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"I didn't think so. What you're asking him to do is not easy. He's a man who's overcome a lot to get where he is and to ask him to step backwards is a slippery slope. He'll come around, but it's going to take some time."

Maxwell bit his lip, thinking, "It can't take too long, Special Agent Gibbs. We don't have much of a case and we're running out of time. Miller's looking at walking again."

*********************************************8

"What do you want, McGee?"

"I thought I'd keep you company," he answered, barely making it inside the elevator before the doors closed.

"Why."

"Umm. No reason."

"It's not necessary. I'm not going to off myself."

That thought hadn't occurred to McGee and now he looked concerned, "I never thought you were going to do that…. Until now."

They rode down in silence, partly because McGee had no idea what to say and partly because he didn't want to say anything. Tony still had a way of scaring him. Once outside, McGee followed him to his car and jumped into the passenger's seat.

Tony set his jaw, and quietly toned, "What are you doing?"

"I'm keeping you company."

"Get out. I don't need any company."

"Umm," McGee thought about what Gibbs would to do him if he let Tony out of his sight. "I don't want to get out. We can have fun today."

"McGee, you've got the wrong body parts for me to be having fun with."

"Well, then, let's have fun some other way."

Too tired and still too hung-over to argue, Tony started the car and pulled out. Where he was going, he didn't know. He just drove in silence, while McGee stared out the window.

Eventually, Tony pondered, "Why would Gibbs call me out like that?"

After the lengthy, silent ride, McGee was not prepared for a question, let alone that kind of question. "I don't know."

"I mean, why is he so interested in this? What's in it for him?"

McGee shrugged, "I don't think there's anything in it for him."

The silence returned and McGee resumed looking out the window. Tony drove East towards the shore. It took three hours, but they eventually made it to the Maryland resort aptly named Ocean City. The warm sunshine felt good and Tony sat in the sand. The two watched the beach goers and children and tourists doing their own thing. Tony finally asked, "What do you think I should do?"

"I think there's only one thing to do."

"Easy for you to say," and he laid back on the beach and closed his eyes.

McGee wasn't sure how to respond, but soon he heard the heavy breathing indicative of slumber. He pulled out his phone and sent a text message. Then he leaned back on his elbows, and watched the people around him while he waited for his friend to awaken.

****************************************8

It was close to one o'clock in the morning when the phone rang. Gibbs set down his sanding block and answered, "How is he?"

"Drunk. We'll be at your place in five minutes."

Gibbs reached in and pulled Tony out of the passenger seat again.

He protested, "Provee… you sed sh-you were takin' me h-home."

With McGee's help, they walked him inside and deposited him on the sofa, but unlike the preceding night, he didn't want to stay. Struggling to stand, Tony slurred, "Take me h-home, Provee."

"It's been a long day, Boss," McGee said, ignoring his partner's drunken pleas. The two stared at the agent as he tried to stand and make coherent sentences. After several unsuccessful attempts, he gave into his drunkenness and sunk into the warm sofa, feeling safe and secure once again.

"Did he say anything?"

"Bits and pieces of things. It wasn't his father who sent him off to that camp for delinquent boys; it was his father's assistant. She couldn't handle him and she had her sights set on marrying a very rich Senior. She figured with Tony out of the way, she could make her move. He said the other boys in the camp were bad asses, and he never understood why he had been sent there."

Gibbs stared down at his passed out agent. "Thanks, Tim. Go home, get some rest."

Gibbs removed Tony's shoes and swung his legs on the sofa. Then he covered him with the blanket and sat on the chair, staring and thinking. "What'd you go through, Tony?"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

***************************************8

The hands held him down. There were too many of them and he couldn't fight them all. He screamed for help, but nobody came… nobody ever came. It would begin soon. They would start out by throwing punches, and then, when he stopped struggling, the punches would turn to kicks. When he was too exhausted to cry out anymore, that's when Miller would come in. His foul smelling breath against his face, his hands touching him—"Get off me!"

Gibbs was shoved backwards, an action he hadn't expected.

"Get away from me!"

Jethro clicked on the light and saw the maniacal yet dazed look of his senior agent. "Tony?"

The glazed and dilated pupils found him, but they weren't recognizing him.

"Tony, wake up, it's me," he added softly, unthreateningly.

Like a light, his eyes switched on, and he found and subsequently focused on his boss. "Gibbs?"

"Yeah. You were having a bad dream."

Tony took a minute to get his bearings, squinting now at the light that surrounded him. He wiped his forehead of the sweat that beaded, and slowed his breathing, but still felt his heart pounding at record speeds inside his chest.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked, still feeling the sting of Tony's fist.

He took a deep, halting breath before nodding. "What happened?"

"I was covering you up with the blanket when you pushed me away." Rubbing his chest from the impact, he asked, "You want to talk about it?"

Tony leaned back, pulling the blanket over him. He didn't want to talk about it. In fact, he didn't want to talk about anything with anyone right now. He closed his eyes and prayed he could keep the nightmares at bay.

Gibbs waited. Eventually he heard the tell-tale signs of slumber. He didn't dare adjust Tony's blanket again; instead, he kicked up the heat a little on the thermostat and sat down in the chair, keeping vigil over his confused agent.

********************************************8

Tony rolled over and opened his eyes. Staring at him was Gibbs. If he could have gotten away with it, he would have rolled back over and gone back to sleep, but his bladder was protesting and his belly was twisting into knots making him unsure if he was hungry or nauseous. He shifted slowly until he was sitting, wondering if his stomach was going to object. A few quick breaths laid that fear to rest, but it didn't help the general disposition of his head. "What time is it?"

"A little after nine."

"I don't suppose you'd give me a ride back to my place?"

"Nope."

Tony pushed off the couch slowly and stretched his back. Two nights on a lumpy sofa was taking its toll. In the bathroom, he stared at his reflection, wondering if this was the same person who Miller had done unspeakable things to. He decided it wasn't. The person who Miller had beaten was not standing in front of this mirror. In fact, that person had long since died. The sad part was nobody else seemed to know this fact.

Gibbs was still sitting in the same position when he returned, but on the coffee table was a mug of hot coffee, and it smelled good. It tasted good, too. He held the warm mug between his hands as he pondered his next move. "Did Stone ever confess?"

"No. After his lawyer showed, he was advised to keep quiet. It doesn't matter; we have enough evidence on him to get a conviction."

Tony rubbed his forehead like people do who are trying to assuage a headache. "About my vacation days."

Gibbs just stared.

Tony looked away, "I'll be back in a week's time."

"I never signed off on it."

Exasperated, Tony dropped his hand from his head and said, "You're denying me my days off?"

"Yes."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you have some unfinished business to take care of."

"Damnit, Gibbs. What do you want from me?"

"Nothing that you don't want from yourself."

Tony shook his head, feeling the anger as it grew inside him. He bent over and shoved his feet into his shoes. Standing, he looked around, thinking about what he was going to do. His head was pounding and his boss was staring at him, and he wasn't sure which made him feel worse. Seeing his wallet and cell on the table, he snatched them up and left the house.

Gibbs leaned back in the chair. He was making progress, but it was slow.

**************************************8

Ziva stared at her partner, who looked like hell. He now had not shaved in two days, and even though he had taken a shower, he hadn't bothered to run a comb through his hair, giving it that mussed-up look that seemed to be so popular. She had to admit that he wore it well. He had made it into the office just after twelve, but he was moving slow and he looked like death warmed over. "You okay?"

He glared at her.

She was instantly reminded that he didn't like that question, so she asked, "Have you decided to testify?"

He ignored her while stowing his gear.

"I thought you were taking some vacation days."

"You thought wrong."

McGee followed the conversation—if you could call it that—with his eyes. Before he had the opportunity to open his mouth and join in, Tony shot him a furtive glance and toned, "Don't even start, McTraitor. It'll take you years to regain what you lost last night."

"But I didn't lose anything."

"And to think I considered you my friend."

"You still can, Tony. You asked me what I'd do and I told you."

"What the hell do you know?" Tony was beginning to feel the same sense of isolation that he felt as a kid. A feeling that hinted at being boxed in, with nowhere to turn and no one to turn to. His chest tightened and he became aware of each and every breath. He picked up the phone, feigning pre-occupation with a task, hoping they hadn't witnessed his emotions trying to surface.

Gibbs, Abby and Ducky observed the interaction from Abby's lab. "What'd you think, Ducky?" Gibbs said.

"I think Anthony is feeling cornered. And to back someone like him into a corner is never a good idea."

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?"

Ducky shrugged, "Like I said before, sometimes these things have a way of backfiring. It's nice that he has an opportunity to put away a known pedophile; not so nice that he has to remember such things."

"What more can I do?" Gibbs asked.

"Keep doing what you're doing. Keep a watchful eye over him, like you always do. Make sure he knows you're there. And one very important thing to remember: Make sure he knows that no matter the outcome, it doesn't change your opinion of him. Unlike children who want to pretend the abuse never happened, adults want to hide the truth to protect them from the reactions of their family and friends."

Abby kept quiet. She felt like her favorite special agent was being beaten down before her very eyes.

"Uh oh," Ducky whispered, "you'd better get up there."

Gibbs rounded the corner quickly, sensing the tension in the small area. Tony was ready to square off against Agent Maxwell when Gibbs stepped between them. Putting a hand on Tony's chest, he pressed, "Take it easy—"

Tony grabbed his boss' lapels and pulled him up to eye level. "Don't touch me!"

"Okay, okay…" Gibbs said gently, holding his hands up defensively, He was reminded again of the anger that lied latent just below the surface of his agent and was convinced more than ever that he'd never get used to seeing it firsthand. Tony's glare was cold and his growl, low and dangerous. "Take it easy, Tony, I'm backing off." Just as quickly as it happened, it stopped. It was another light switch being turned off.

Tony seemed shocked at what he'd done and let his boss go, stopping short of actually straightening out his clothes.

Ziva and McGee were wide-eyed at the act, and if they could have seen them, they'd have known that both Ducky and Abby were stunned too.

"I'm sorry..." Tony whispered, still trying to wrap his brain around his latest actions. He hadn't done anything like this in years, and he'd never, in all his years working with Gibbs, showed him any disrespect or so much as lifted a finger towards him. But he was losing control and the anger was spilling out and if he didn't get it back under control, he was going to hurt someone. Someone he cared for.

The display was enough to catch the attention of everyone on the floor, and the silence was deafening. It was like they could see him for what he was, and his safe haven was collapsing. "I gotta go," he mumbled, trying to organize his thoughts although to the observer, it was a struggle. Finally, he just up and walked away, sans gun, sans pack.

"Ziver."

"On it." She grabbed her things and hurried after him.

Gibbs faced the two FBI agents. They shifted uneasily. Agent Maxwell finally said, "Miller's defense goes to the Grand Jury today. It's going to be very difficult to convince them we have a case without DiNozzo's testimony."

"Stall them."

Maxwell furrowed his brow, "What?"

"Stall them. Tell them Miller's sick; tell Miller he's sick. I don't care what you do, but stall them."

"It doesn't work that way—"

"—I'm pushing my agent as hard as I can. He'll come around, but you have to give me a little more time. You know the system, find a loophole and use it!"

****************************************8

Ziva caught up with Tony as he exited through the rear door of the NCIS building.

"What do you want," he hissed.

"I do not want anything," she replied. Then, choosing her words more carefully, she added, "I do not want to see you hurt anymore."

"It's too late for that, Ziva. As you so aptly pointed out, children shouldn't be hurt for doing something wrong. Remember?"

She stood next to him, comfortable around him, yet uneasy by his demeanor.

"Is it your turn to babysit me tonight?"

"We do not want you to be alone."

"What is with you people? What do you think I'm gonna do?"

Ziva shrugged.

He walked away from her, but she followed. When he entered the parking garage and headed towards his car, she said, "Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I doubt you're going anywhere considering you don't have your keys. I brought mine in case you want me to drive you somewhere."

He gave her a long steady look before saying, "I'd rather kill myself than voluntarily get into your car."

She lifted her brows, thinking his comment might be insightful.

He could read her like a book and said, "It's like I told McGee, I'm not thinking about committing suicide, but one could argue if I got into your car I would be."

Feigning indignation, she replied, "I am hurt that you won't ride with me, but unless a key magically appears, I do not see where you have much choice."

He reached his car and smiled, "I don't need a key. There was a time in my youth when I could boost a car in under thirty seconds."

This, she wanted to see. She watched as he popped the hood and removed a long wedge. Using it and his knife, he quickly unlocked the driver's side door of his car and slid in. He tossed the wedge on the passenger seat and reached under the dashboard and felt for wires. She knew exactly what he was doing as she too had the same set of skills. A second later, the engine of his early model sports car roared to life and he smiled at her. "See? Under thirty." He slammed his door.

"Hey! Wait! I want to come with you!"

He rolled down his window and replied, "What I want right now… well, let's just say that Gibbs has rules against it, so it's better if you stay behind."

It angered her that he just drove off, but she too had some skills that she hadn't tested in a while. She raced to her car, threw in her gear and sped off after him. Three blocks later she veered in behind him and it was the first time ever that she thanked DC for having one way streets.

When Tony looked in his rear view mirror and saw the small foreign made vehicle three cars behind, he damn near slammed on his brakes in the middle of the road. But then he had a thought. '_Let's see just how good you are, Officer David_.' He shifted gears and waited patiently for an opportunity. Within two minutes, he had one. He was second in line at the red light when he suddenly swerved into oncoming traffic, ran the light, switched lanes, took a right turn down a one way street, ran another red light, and took the ramp leading to the highway. Glancing in his rear view mirror, he smiled at the lack of any flashing blue lights and any small foreign made cars.

He made his way over to Georgetown where one of his favorite bars was located. He was almost to it when he caught a glimpse of her small car in his mirror, "Damn." It was then that he realized he wasn't nearly as well trained at losing a tail as she was at maintaining one. He turned into the little known alley that afforded several off street parking spaces for those in-the-know customers and parked. A second later, she pulled in beside him.

He glared at her, but there was a small part of him that was turned on by the chase. He slammed his car door shut and watched her exit her sorry excuse, although impressively powered, automobile. "How'd you do that?"

"Tail you? I'm well trained to do this sort of thing, Tony. You were easy." She averted her eyes as she did not want to let on that she had received some help; namely, she had called McGee and had him trace Tony's cell phone using his built-in GPS.

He stared at her for a minute longer, sensing something was slightly amiss about her story, but then the memory of the past few days descended on him and he let the feeling dissipate. He left her standing in the parking lot as he made his way to the rear door of the bar. It was early still, but he knew the manager so when he knocked, he was let in, no questions asked. He turned and said to Ziva, "You'll have to use the front door, but don't be surprised if they don't grant you admission." The door closed in her face.

She knew why he was here at this particular bar; he was here to pick up a woman who would serve to meet his physical needs. It made her jealous, sort of. It was one thing to know he did this sort of thing, and another to have to sit by and watch it happen. She flipped open her phone and speed dialed a number. "Gibbs, how close do you want me to stick with Tony?"

Gibbs set his phone on the steel table and put her voice on speaker. His gut was telling him that he was going to need Ducky's input. "Where are you?"

"I followed him to a bar in Georgetown. The one he goes to when he wants to pick up a woman."

"Very close." Gibbs' reasons were simple; they were making headway into getting Tony to testify, but if he were allowed to fall back into his old ways, they would lose the ground they'd gained.

Ziva nervously answered, "I do not think Tony will be satisfied with another night of drinking. He's looking for something different, if you know what I mean."

Ducky smiled and nodded his head, "This is an important juncture for Anthony in terms of coming to terms with his past, but only if you feel you can do it, Ziva."

Do it? Do what? Have sex with him? Ziva was a little shocked at the suggestion and wasn't even sure if she understood correctly. "There are rules against that sort of thing, Ducky."

"Ziva," Gibbs said, "It's not like we're asking you to sleep with him."

"Oh—of course not, I'm not suggesting that either," she answered quickly, covering her thoughts and wondering if she sounded disappointed.

"Do what it takes, Ziva. Can you do that?"

"Yes, yes, I can do that," she repeated, nodding her head quickly. She flipped her phone closed and faced the door. "Yes, I can do this. Whatever THIS is…"

Ducky lowered the lid on the phone and said, "This could be the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, Jethro. Will he or won't he? My guess is he won't."

"And Ziva? What about her?"

"Jethro, if you put your intuitive talents to use, you would already know that she has strong feelings for him. It's your damn rules that prevent any exploration of the idea. Rules, I might add, that you, yourself, have failed to obey."

Gibbs smiled. He had long known that Ziva and Tony danced around their emotions, but he also knew it was not uncommon for partners to develop strong feelings towards each other. Since the day he'd sent them in to impersonate Sophie and Jean-Paul Ranier to the time he'd sent them to Paris together, he'd known… hell, he'd always known. And he gave them credit for not succumbing to their physical needs. Or had they already?

Ziva pulled the rubber band from her hair and shook her head. She checked her lightly applied make up in her side view mirror and adjusted her loose fitting sweater. Satisfied, she paused at what she was about to do, then just as quickly pushed those thoughts aside. She had a job to do, and it wasn't the first time she'd had to user her feminine wiles to do it.

Tony looked around the darkened tavern. It was afternoon and the crowd would be sauntering in soon. He liked this place because it afforded him a degree of anonymity that some of his other hangouts didn't. One other reason for liking it was because it was known for one thing: good looking people looking for a good time without any strings attached. He'd met women from the CIA, Homeland Security, and DOD here: pretty, too-ambitious-for-commitments, powerful types who were as aggressive between the sheets as they were in the board room. He sat at the bar in blissful anticipation.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Tony recognized the voice, but chose to glower at the manager rather than answering.

"What was I supposed to do?" the manager lamented. "She showed me those things," and he lowered his eyes to her badge and gun. "Said if I didn't let her in, she'd cause problems."

Tony swiveled on his stool to face her. He liked her hair down and her eyes twinkled in the dim light. "Suppose I said yes. Would you buy me one?"

"I would expense it."

"I want a beer."

She motioned to the bartender, "Two beers."

"Since when do you drink beer?"

"It largely depends on my mood. Since when do _you_ drink beer?"

He waited until Sam had poured the cold liquid into a frosted glass for Ziva and then popped the top off the bottle for him. "Cheers," he said, holding up his bottle.

Just as the glasses clinked, she caught his eye. God, he looked good. She felt her insides flutter in places that shouldn't be fluttering, and she looked away. "Nice place here. How'd you find it?"

"It's not too far from where I live, and I like the clientele."

"Do you know that I have no idea where you live?"

Tony took a long sip; he did know that, and he preferred it that way.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm not sure why this chapter was removed, but it was. Thanks to all who alerted me to this because I probably wouldn't have realized it. Hope you enjoy the ending. ~Jasmine**

Gibbs returned to his desk and was surprised to see Agents Maxwell and Neal getting off the elevator. He looked expectantly at them.

"Special Agent Gibbs, I know you told me to stall the Grand Jury, and I did, but only for one day. If Agent DiNozzo doesn't agree to testify tomorrow, there's a better chance than not that Miller will walk."

McGee asked, "What about the other victims? The ones that came forward? Why can't they testify?"

"They can, and they will. We can try to bring Miller to justice with just their testimony, but to be honest, we know the defense team on this one, and they'll shoot holes in everything our witnesses say."

Gibbs wondered if he could make DiNozzo understand the importance of coming forward, but then shrugged, deciding it wouldn't be the first time a felon walked. It's just unfortunate that this particular felon has ties to a member of his team. And if Tony didn't testify and missed an opportunity to put this bastard away, how would it affect him? According to Ducky, the knowledge could eat away at him like a cancer.

Agent Maxwell pursed his lips, "Well, if you hear from DiNozzo and he's willing to testify, here's my card. The information is on the back."

Gibbs took it and flipped it over. Talk about threading the needle. He had less than 24 hours to get a man to flip on his childhood abuser, not an easy task by anyone's standards.

********************************************8

Another attractive brunette walked by, checking him out. Ziva tried to ignore the attention he was getting, but it was difficult; fortunately, he seemed oblivious. She took another sip of beer.

"What do you think I should do?" he asked, solemnly.

Ziva turned to look at his profile. They had been sitting in silence for a while and the question didn't surprise her, but it did stir something up inside her. She answered, "You know what I think."

"Why the hell is everyone so sure of themselves! Why can't someone see it my way?"

"There is a right thing to do and a wrong thing to do. It is simple."

"To you, maybe, but not to me. I've spent a lifetime forgetting, and I've done a pretty damn good job at it too."

"Forgetting what?"

He looked at her, eyes blazing with anger, and then they suddenly softened and he began to laugh. "I see what you're doing. Trying to get me to open up about my childhood. Well, it ain't gonna work. Besides, you did all that research, you tell me."

She ordered two more beers, bringing the total to three each, and said, "This is not my decision. It's something you have to do."

"Exactly! So why do I feel like there's only one right answer and it seems to be whatever you, or Gibbs, or Maxwell wants! Hell, anything but what I want."

"We want what's best for you."

"Cut the bullshit, Ziva! You don't want what's best for me; you want what's best for a cop's image."

"That is not true. And that is not fair," she chastised in a way that made him withdraw. "We see an opportunity for you to fix a wrong. This sort of thing doesn't come around very often."

Tony grabbed his bottle of beer and spun off the bar stool and over to a table. He kicked the chair out and sat down hard.

She followed him, "With the way the ladies are checking you out, I had better sit here before this chair gets taken."

"So you're going to ruin my chances of taking home one of these lovely ladies tonight?"

"They would not satisfy you."

Tony leaned forward, considering her comment, "You don't think so?"

"I know so. They are shallow and forgettable. By tomorrow you will have forgotten their names."

He studied her a beat, making her feel uncomfortable under his gaze. "Maybe you're right. Maybe one of these ladies won't do it for me. You have any suggestions on how I might fix that?"

She smiled, seductively. "I might be able to think of something."

"I might let you," he replied, smiling and holding her gaze until she looked away. He finished his beer and this time, he ordered the next round. Ziva was at her limit and let the bottle stand, untouched. She pushed it his way when he had drained his, and he accepted.

"Ziva, do you have any idea what I've had to go through to forget what Miller did to me?"

She did not. She didn't want to.

He contemplated his situation. How did it ever get to this point? He didn't know, and quite frankly, like his partner, he didn't want to know. Looking at her, he wanted other things tonight; the hell with trying to figure this out. He was with the beautiful Israeli and he quite simply wanted what she had to offer. "Forget I asked that. I really don't care how I got here. The important thing is you're here with me, and I've become quite astute at reading people… women actually, and you seem to be telling me something."

She felt the warmth from his body as he slid closer to her, and she liked it. Coyly, she asked, "What do you propose we do?"

"If I have to tell you that…" he inched closer to her, "… then you don't know me very well."

She followed his mouth as he moved closer, stumbling over her words, "There are rules against this…" Ignoring her own comment, she allowed his lips to move precariously close to hers. He smelt of beer and the cologne she liked so much. From the first time she'd met Anthony DiNozzo, she had always been taken in by his sheer masculinity. Her stomach fluttered. "Would you care to take this… talk… elsewhere?" she cooed.

Outside, the sun had long set and the evening had cooled the temperatures. The fresh air felt good and helped to clear his head. They walked to her car and he took her keys and unlocked her door.

Because he didn't step aside, when she moved forward she found herself pressed up against him, and she liked it, suppressing the urge to caress his sides and deciding it would be better to simply rest her hand on his chest. She whispered, "I think I know you very well, and I think I know what you would like to do tonight." She moved her arms around his neck and pushed up on her toes so her lips were almost touching his. His smell was intoxicating in a way that made her knees weak. She felt his lashes brush up against her face and if he had decided to engage her right there in the parking lot, she wouldn't have protested.

"Ziva," he said. But it wasn't said like a man lusting for physical pleasure, rather, from a man second guessing his decision.

She pulled back slightly. In the dark alley she could barely see his features, but she could see enough to know that he was struggling.

"We can't," he whispered, regretting every word.

She couldn't exactly pinpoint how that made her feel, but in the recesses of her brain, (and she thanked God that she was still able to at least partially think) she knew he was right. Knowing it and feeling it, though, were two different things. She went to pull away but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, and held her. She could feel his heart pounding, and the ever so slight trembling of his body against hers.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but she wasn't going to break it. She liked it, and she knew he needed it. It wasn't often that Tony let anyone in to see that side of him, and even now, she wouldn't go so far as to say this was Tony's vulnerable side, but it was a side of him that he rarely displayed.

He never ceased to surprise her and tonight was no exception. She felt him pull away and thought the evening would end with her driving away, but instead, he did the unthinkable. He kissed her. A kiss that was more sensual than any kiss she'd ever felt from a man before. His mouth, his lips, his tongue seemed to know exactly where to go and there was passion without an overwhelming feeling of force, and power without rigidity, and control without regret. She melted in his arms, and returned the gesture with everything she had.

The kiss ended as gently as it had begun. She leaned her head against his chest, confirming the existence of an emotion that had been dormant for far too long. She was very capable of love and he was very capable of tapping into it.

"I have to go," he said, stroking her hair.

"What? Where?"

"I don't know. I just have to go before we both do something we know we shouldn't."

"But… you are in no condition to drive… let me drive you home."

"I'm not going there."

"I promised Gibbs I would stay with you. I can't—"

He laid his index finger gently across her lips. "I'll be fine. I might just drive… it clears my head."

"Are you sure? I don't know if you should be alone tonight."

"I'm sure." He guided her into the driver's seat and closed the door behind her. He leaned down into the open window and said, "The last scene in 'Sometime Between Midnight and Dawn' ended this way. Jackson's best work by far."

Ziva knew the movie, "They never saw each other again."

"It wasn't a very good movie," he smiled and backed away.

****************************************8

Tony drove for several hours and only stopped once for gas. He didn't have a destination; he was just driving and thinking. These past few days had been every bit the nightmare he thought it would be. He never wondered _if_ it would come about, only _when_ it would come. A guy like Miller was bound to get caught.

Of course, the agent knew that now, only after he'd been in law enforcement for many years and learned the statistics on pedophiles and sexual predators. But when he was a kid, he would have sworn that Miller would find him if he uttered one syllable of what he did.

But he was no longer a child, so what was his excuse?

He swerved at the last minute, sending his car off the road and narrowly avoiding the guard rail.

******************************8

Ziva lay in bed, thinking about her "almost" encounter with her partner. She would never have stopped it, but Tony did. He was right, of course, for not succumbing to his basic needs, and she found herself being a little disappointed in her own abilities to resist him.

She wondered if he was lying in bed thinking about her the way she was thinking about him. A thought niggled at her brain and when she allowed it to mature into a full-fledged idea, she wondered if he had even driven home. She picked up her cell and noticed the time was nearing one o'clock. She rolled over and switched the light on. Speed dialing her partner, she whispered, "Please answer. Please pick up." She redialed, thinking maybe she'd dialed wrong. "Tony, pick up, please pick up."

She dialed another number while throwing her feet into shoes and grabbing a hoodie. "Gibbs! I think I screwed up. I left Tony alone! I don't know what I was thinking, but now I can't get hold of him. I knew I shouldn't have left, but he wasn't drunk, and I—" she didn't want to admit that she hadn't trusted herself enough to avoid doing something she might have regretted. "—I –"

"Relax, Ziva. He's here with me."

"What?"

"He just arrived about 2 minutes ago."

"Oh. Well, I was—" she heard the dead air indicating she'd lost her connection, no doubt intentional on her boss' part.

****************************************8

Gibbs tossed the phone back on his workbench and studied his agent. He wasn't inebriated, but he looked a mess. From the basement, he had heard someone stumbling around upstairs and waited patiently until that someone finally descended the steps, carrying a couple of beer bottles. Tony's hair was matted and he appeared to have a gash on his head. There also was a fair amount of blood on his shirt.

"What happened to you?"

Tony shrugged, "Went head to head with a guard rail, and lost. Spun out and landed in a ravine."

"How's the car?"

"Well, it got me here."

Gibbs took a swallow of beer and replied, "You can always fix up the body to make it look good again, but you can't hide the real problems if they lie under the hood." Tony gave him a wry look for the well timed metaphor. It was just a matter of time before Tony would open up about what Miller had done to him, all Gibbs had to do was provide a non-threatening, non-judgmental atmosphere, and it would happen sooner than later. Two beers and three sanded boat ribs later, Tony finally said, "I don't know if I can do it."

Gibbs cocked his head.

"I mean," Tony continued, "years ago, I used to think about what I would say to Miller if I ever ran into him on the street, but I never got out the first word. It's funny," Tony squirmed, feeling uncomfortable, "I can lay out a pedophile in the interrogation room, but I can't face my own…" he finished it silently.

"I know that you, and McGee, and Ziva all think I should testify, that it's a no-brainer given my line of work and all, but it's not that easy! I don't want to remember what he did, and you probably don't believe me, but it's true when I tell you that it's all locked up here," he said, pointing to his head, "locked up air tight, and I don't think about it anymore, ever."

Gibbs listened.

"I mean, what's the point? People say they would believe me, but they wouldn't. They say that I'll feel better once I get it off my chest, but I won't. They say that it's the right thing to do, but is it?" Tony paced around the boat, having circled it by now three times. "I'm not going to do it. You know how many people out there would love to get this kind of dirt on me? We can begin with FBI Special Agent Ron Slacks. Add to that CIA operative Trent Cort. In case you hadn't noticed, Boss, I was never one to make a lot of friends."

Gibbs chuckled; if he only knew the truth. Of all his agents, Anthony DiNozzo was requested more than any other because he was damn good, and fun, to work with.

"And I don't need people feeling sorry for me, either!" he continued, stopping only to pick up a tool and examine it before setting it back down. "I mean, I don't want anyone's pity. And my father! God knows I wouldn't be able to tell my father. Somehow he would turn it around to be my fault; that I did something that enticed Miller—" Tony stopped short again, breathing hard from the monologue, or was it the memories?

"Sorry, Boss, I should be leaving. You have… boat things to do and I should get home. With any luck, I'll have a visitor waiting for me at my place," he smiled slyly.

"Tony?"

Eager to leave, he gathered his beer bottles, "I'll take care of these."

"Tony?"

"Don't worry about my car. It'll get me home."

"Tony?"

Two steps up, he stopped, knowing that Gibbs would follow him home if he didn't, "Yeah?"

"Come on back. It's my turn to talk."

Tony hesitated. There was nothing Gibbs could say that would change his mind because he wasn't going to testify and that was that. He turned slowly and took the two steps back down, feeling his boss' eyes drilling through him. "What."

"Sit down."

Reluctantly, he sat down on the stool that Gibbs had pulled up to the table where the boat was perched, and waited for the lecture. But instead of a voice falling on deaf ears, a photograph invaded his line of sight. He recognized the boy in the picture. He remembered the pain the boy had gone through, and the feelings of betrayal that the boy had felt. He remembered seeing the bruises on the boy's face and drawing a picture on the boy's cast. What he didn't remember was the look in the boy's eyes; the look of sheer terror and fear that was so blatant and obvious now. He pushed the picture away, but to his dismay, another one took its place.

He pushed that one away, too. Gibbs quietly stated, "I got more." And he did. He laid each one on the table side by side. He knew he'd turned a corner with his agent when a splash of water fell softly on one of them.

**********************************8

McGee finally commented, "You look like a cat on a hot tin roof."

Ziva scrunched her brows and said, "Why would a cat be on a hot tin roof?"

"It's an idiom. It means you look nervous."

"Well, today is the day. We could find out whether or not Tony's testimony was enough to convict Miller."

"I hope it is," Director Vance said, coming around the partition. "I need our agents back at work."

"It's on!" Abby said, shuffling into the bullpen. "Turn on the TV, McGee!"

Ducky added, "Yes, Timothy, I'd do what the lady says or else we may never get back to normal around here."

"That's for sure," Palmer agreed, "we haven't been able to get much work done because Abby's been following the trial."

"How can you? It's not being covered by national television?"

"I have friends who owe me," Abby said. "Now, quick! Turn on the television!"

McGee tuned into streaming court TV just as the news reporter came on. She was standing outside the courthouse in Connecticut, articulating the events of the trial. With nary a strand of hair out of place, she reported, "We are outside the county courthouse awaiting a verdict in the trial of Connecticut vs Hank Eugene Miller. The jury has reached a verdict and the defendant is being brought back in. The courtroom is filling up again and it will be another minute or two before the verdict is read. To recap, Eugene Miller is accused of sexually molesting young boys while he was a camp counselor. This is not the first trial Mr. Miller has been involved with. He was acquitted in 1973 of the same charges in South Dakota after the testimony was deemed suspect. What we know about this trial is at the last minute, the prosecution was able to bring in a surprise witness. We don't know who this witness is, but we have been told that he's in law enforcement, but we don't know with what agency."

"—So let me get this straight, Clare," the host of Court TV interrupted, "the surprise witness for the prosecution is in law enforcement? Why didn't he come forth sooner?"

"Good question, Dixie, and one that a lot of people are asking; unfortunately, it may never be answered. During this man's testimony, the judge ordered the courtroom cleared of everyone but the defendant, lawyers, and jury. He was examined and cross-examined at length, and if the expressions on Miller's attorneys' faces are any indication, it was very damning testimony to their case. Wait a minute, Clare, I think we have something coming in." She took a piece of paper handed to her and read it, "It appears that the jury has given their verdict. They have found Hank Eugene Miller guilty as charged."

"I knew he could do it!" Abby said, jumping up and down and hugging Ziva.

Ducky smiled and added, "Yes, it appears that all's well that end's well."

"I wonder how they managed to keep Tony's identity a secret?" McGee asked, not expecting an answer.

"I was able to pull a few strings at a very high level," Vance answered.

Everyone turned and looked, shocked. It was obvious that Tony and the Director were never going to be friends, so it seemed out of character for Leon Vance to have been Tony's savior on this one. "I'm two agents down. It'd be nice to get some work done today." He turned and walked away, leaving the occupants of the bullpen to their revelry.

*****************************************8

Gibbs drove in silence. They were an hour into an eight hour drive back to DC and Tony was currently slumped in the passenger seat, trying to get some sleep. It had been a rough couple of days and more than a few since he'd gotten a good night's sleep. Gibbs suspected it was going to be many more. His phone rang, "Yeah, Gibbs." It was the FBI.

He listened, grunted once, and hung up.

"Was that Fornell?" Tony asked, never opening his eyes.

Gibbs tossed his phone on the dash and nodded, "Yeah."

"What'd he want?"

"He called to thank you."

Tony straightened but only to stare out the window.

"He's also purging your name from the file. He can't do anything about the court records, but he promised they'd be sealed for at least ten years."

"Can he do that?"

"He's the FBI. He can do what he can do. You hungry?"

Tony shook his head, and Gibbs wondered when the last time his senior field agent ate. "Well, I am." He swung off the highway, drove until he found a good steak restaurant, swung into the parking lot and cut the engine. He could read people pretty well and the guy sitting in the passenger seat wasn't going anywhere. They sat in silence while Gibbs read the different emotions that passed through his friend's brain just by watching his expressions. Tony was struggling.

"You okay?"

"Not really."

Gibbs was not a therapist, and the words from his second wife resonated around inside his head- something about not being able to know when others were hurting. But she was wrong about that, he knew Tony was hurting. But she was also right; he didn't know what to say at times like these. But there was one thing he was good at, he could listen and he sensed that Tony needed someone right now who could just listen. So he sat behind the wheel and waited. It seemed to pay off.

Forty five minutes later, Gibbs blinked his eyes. He'd just listened to an account of a boy who had been brutally and senselessly abused, where broken bones and black eyes were a normal everyday occurrence. He learned the abuse started when Tony was young and didn't end until he damn near killed a man. It occurred during a time when the public refused to believe that such acts could be carried out, especially among the white-bred upper class who lived in the opulent suburbs of the Hamptons. To a large extent, this may have explained why nobody ever believed him when he tried to get help. He eventually stopped looking to adults and took matters into his own hands. It almost cost him dearly, but he swore no one was ever going to hurt him again. Tony's account of being sexually, physically, and emotionally tortured was told in a somewhat detached manner, like he was relaying details about someone else, pausing only once to check his emotions.

Gibbs had no idea the abuse was to such extent and by several people over multiple years. And although he knew there had been more than just one abuser, he'd never have guessed the number and duration. If it was hard for Tony to tell it, it was even harder for him to listen to it.

Tony looked at his boss, more for reassurance than anything. "But I did it, Gibbs. I put the bastard away."

"Yes, you did."

Tony nodded, allowing himself a moment to realize the magnitude of what he'd done. "Yes, I did."

Gibbs observed his senior field agent raise his head a little higher and sit up a little straighter. He wasn't fooled into thinking Tony was fine, but at least he was on his way. He gave him a few more minutes to relish in his accomplishment before asking, "How 'bout that steak?"

"Yeah. That sounds good. I guess I am kinda hungry." And as he got out of the car, he felt just a tad bit lighter.

~Fini


End file.
